To Be With You
by more-than-words
Summary: There are pillows in the corner and light from the small window and the small breathy sighs coming from her throat are music enough. 10Rose, post reunion. No spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** To Be With You

**Disclaimer: **I don't own it.

**Summary: **There are pillows in the corner and light from the small window and the small breathy sighs coming from her throat are music enough. Post-reunion but no specific spoilers.

**Rating: **T, this chapter. Next will go up to M.

**A/N: **This was written for the Spring Hopes Eternal Ficathon on the LJ community songs-in-time. My prompt song was 'To Be With You' by Hoobastank, hence the title. Prompt and lyrics will be at the end of the story. Enjoy!

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"Rose, run!!"

One hundred arrows let loose behind them and the Doctor reaches out instinctively to grab his companion's hand, gripping as tightly as he can as he propels her at top speed back towards the TARDIS. He will not lose her again. Especially not over something as stupid as this. Really, it _wasn't_ his fault that… "Oof!"

He trips, stumbling into Rose and knocking her sideways. He has just enough presence of mind to jerk on her hand to keep her upright, dragging her onwards even as he struggles to right himself. A sharp burst of pain erupts in his right shoulder, but he isn't quite sure what it should be attributed to. Pain doesn't matter at the moment. All that matters is getting to safety, but the TARDIS is still so far away and he's not sure they can make it that far without getting hit by a plethora of arrows. He might be able to take it but he knows that Rose certainly can't (and he'd never ask her to even if she could); he needs to get her away from the men pursuing them. She didn't find her way back to him from a parallel universe just so he could get her killed within a week of her return. He'd promised he'd take care of her.

Making decisions and calculating distances at the speed of light, he darts to the left instead of carrying straight on to the TARDIS. He hopes that the men with the arrows will lose their bearings once they disappear out of sight, and hopefully give up chasing them. The Doctor decides never again to touch a dead body without first checking that there is no one there to see and accuse him and his companion of murder before picking up their weapons and chasing after them for miles, not caring for his explanations that they only wanted to help; they hadn't killed the poor little girl who was now lying dead at the bottom of a ditch.

"Doctor!" Rose's breath is getting laboured; he knows that she must be tiring after their long day of two revolutions and a barn dance followed by what was meant to be a quiet dinner in the company of this fascinating people.

He glances across at her as they run. Her free hand is gripping her side and she is bent over slightly, a look of discomfort on her face. She probably has chronic indigestion from their inconveniently timed post-dinner sprint. "Not far," he promises. A quick glance over his shoulder tells him that most of the men have in fact given up chasing them; only a diligent few remain and one fires an arrow, which sails in a perfect arc before coming back down to earth and landing in the dirt about a foot in front of them. The Doctor decides not to take any chances and turns another corner, taking Rose down a twisty little street that heads further into the mostly-abandoned shanty town.

-8-8-8-

Three minutes later and they're alone, only a few angry shouts in the distance letting them know that their hosts aren't happy at their escape. The Doctor doesn't think he could care less right now. He slows their pace to a jog, and looks around their new surroundings until a small building up ahead catches his eye. He leads Rose there and then stops outside. He knocks on the door and waits in case anyone still happens to be living there. There's no reply and so he works his magic with the sonic screwdriver, opening the door.

He lets Rose go in ahead of him while he shuts and locks the door behind them; he wants to make sure they're not going to be disturbed while they catch their breath. When he turns back, Rose is standing in the middle of the room, taking in their surroundings.

"'s nice," she says. " Empty, bit dusty, but… cosy." She smiles at him a little shyly. She has been this way since they were reunited, as though she is slightly unsure of her place with him now. He only wishes he possessed the courage to tell her what she truly means to him.

The Doctor hardly registers the room they are in, only taking in enough to notice the abandoned nature of the place: cooking implements are everywhere and pillows have been left in one corner next to a few rolled-up straw mats. Someone had obviously left in a hurry.

Under normal circumstances, his first thought would be to find out what had happened here, what exactly had caused the people to abandon this town while the people in the more rural settlements remained. But that doesn't matter now. This has been the first close brush with death since Rose returned to him, and he can think of nothing else but striding across the floor to gather her in his arms and holding her tight against his chest.

Her arms are around him in an instant, wrapping tightly around his waist as he buries his lips in her hair. He presses kisses to the top of her head, her temples, her forehead. He doesn't care if she thinks he's crazy (he's pretty sure she's always thought that, after all) when he inhales loudly, drawing her scent into himself and locking it away deep down inside him so he will always have a little piece of her there.

Her hands slide up his back, and then suddenly she is pulling away from him, trying to draw back from his embrace. He isn't ready to let go of her just yet. Doesn't she realise that the only way he can convince himself that she is safe is when she's pressed up against him, heart beating against his? He pulls her back to him.

"Doctor." Her voice is muffled against his suit jacket.

"Shh," he tries to calm her with one hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair. "Not yet."

"But you're bleeding."

_What?_ He frowns, this time letting her go when she moves out of his arms. He didn't know that he was bleeding. When had that happened? He tries to think it through but then Rose's hands are pulling at his jacket, trying to drag it away from his body and he thinks for a moment that his wonderful little human must be talking in metaphors he doesn't understand and that she means something else entirely. But then his jacket tugs against his right shoulder, and he remembers the shock of pain when they were running from the men who thought they were murderers.

"Think you got hit by an arrow," she says.

His jacket hits the floor, followed quickly by his tie before he even knows what's happening. His jacket is stained with blood. "Rose, are you undressing me?" is the 'clever' sentence that comes out of his mouth.

She gives him a soft smile, clearly thinking that he's going mad from the shock. "Need to see the wound," she tells him.

_Oh, yes. That would help, wouldn't it?_ "I'm perfectly fine until we get back to the TARDIS."

"And when are we going back there?"

He thinks about it, works out their relative safety if they were to leave right now compared with if they waited until the small hours of the morning when their pursuers would be least likely to notice the two strangers hot-footing it away from them. "Six hours?" he guesses. "Seven?"

She is deadly serious when she looks him in the eye and says, "You can't wait that long."

He doesn't argue. In fact, he's beginning to think that she's right: he'll never be able to hold out for six or seven hours alone with her in a small room, not when she's gorgeously flushed from running (although he likes to think that it's his hug that made her look like that) and she's unbuttoning his shirt slowly and he can feel her breath on his neck… Memories rise unbidden to the front of his mind, memories of him and Rose from… _before_. He quashes them down; now is not an appropriate time to be reminding of her of what they once were – of what they once _did_. Danger and adrenaline is still too prevalent in the room with them, and he doesn't want to frighten her.

The pain is beginning to make itself known now, although he has already started to heal. He can feel it – the healing process – starting to take effect, blood clotting and his skin tingling as scar tissue begins to form. "You okay?" he asks her, remembering that she was in pain before.

"Yeah," she replies distractedly while she works at getting his shirt off without hurting him further. He can tell she's lying. He knows that she doesn't want to be a burden to him, knows that she's scared he'll get fed up of her and leave her alone somewhere in this universe where she no longer has anywhere to go back to. He wishes he could think of a way to tell her he'll never do that, that he'll never get fed up of her – he thinks that it might even be impossible – but words elude him. It never seems to be the right moment.

"Rose."

She looks up from her task of working his elbow from his sleeve. "I'm fine. Promise," she says, placing one hand on his cheek to let him know that she means it. She has been doing that more since she came back – touching him on his arm or his face, as though she wants to make sure he's really real. She has yet to tell him much of what she went through on the parallel Earth, but the look in her eyes suggests to him that it must have been hard, and more than likely lonely. She looks older than she should. "There you go."

His shirt is on the floor now, and he is slightly surprised to see so much blood staining the right side. "Oh." He sways slightly, his head feeling light. He tries to hide it, doesn't want Rose to think he's a wimp for feeling faint at the sight of a bit of blood.

He should have known he can't fool her, though. Her hands find his immediately, leading him over to a stone bench set near a small, wood-burning stove. She sits him down, running one hand through his hair as he looks up at her. "I'm just going to see if that pump is working, okay?" she asks, pointing over at the water pump in the opposite corner.

"Okay."

He watches as she heads to the pump, picking up a discarded bowl on the way. Her movements are enticing; he loves the play of muscles in her arms and back as she bends to the pump, lifting the lever and pushing back down to see if there is any water left. Her hair – slightly darker than before, more natural – falls across her face and she lifts a hand to push it back. Her hand leaves a small smudge of dirt on her cheek and the Doctor finds himself wanting to go to her to brush it off. Then maybe once the dirt was gone he could trail his fingers down her face, into the hollow of her throat, like he did that one time when they…

"Yes!" Rose exclaims in triumph as water begins to spill from the pump. She lets it run for a while before filling the bowl and bringing it back to him. She sets the bowl on the seat beside him and then goes to his jacket, picking it up and rooting around in the pockets until she finds a large square handkerchief. It makes him smile that she knows where he keeps such things and has no qualms about rifling through his clothes to find them.

She is back at his side within moments, helping him to lift his undershirt up and over his head. He hears her breath hitch as she discards it somewhere behind him, and he can smell the sharp tang of blood in the air. "How's it look?" he dares to ask.

"Looks worse than it is," she replies, and he lets out a sigh of relief. Not that he was worried, of course; he knew he would be fine but he didn't want to worry Rose. "Do you think those men will find us?" she questions him as she dips the square of cloth into the water.

He shakes his head. "Nah. I set a jamming signal on the sonic screwdriver as soon as we arrived. It'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"Of course." That's something new as well, something she never really did before. She's been questioning him a lot more, has probably questioned his actions more in the week she has been back than she ever did in the whole of their previous two year relationship. She's changed since being away, he decides, but she's still the same. She's still Rose. Just… more mature. He guesses that she's lived through a lot in their time apart, just as he has had to.

He turns his attention back to her cleaning his wound, carefully dabbing the cloth against his shoulder to remove the blood before rinsing it out and starting again. Her movements are careful and tender, and he realises that it's been a while since he's had someone to take care of him like this. He's missed it. _Actually,_ he corrects himself, _that's not quite right_. More accurately, he's missed _her_.

She's finished cleaning him up before long, and presses the handkerchief firmly against his shoulder for a minute to make sure the bleeding has stopped. "It's just a graze," she informs him, although he'd already worked that one out. "It's not bad but there was quite a bit of blood."

"Right," he says.

"You should probably leave your shirt off for a bit, let the air get to it," she continues.

"Right," he says again, suddenly very aware that he's sitting topless while Rose rests her hands on his shoulders, massaging lightly while carefully avoiding his war wound. Her touch feels incredible after spending so long without it. He feels those beautiful memories surface again, the events that occurred after their time on Krop Tor at their joy of being reunited once more, of having made it out of yet another impossible situation. He remembers how she had felt against him, beneath him, how empty he had felt when she had finally been ripped from him and he couldn't hold her any more. He feels his skin flush in response to the memory.

It takes him several moments to notice that Rose's hands have moved up into his hair and are now alternating between gently teasing the wayward strands and rubbing her fingers across his scalp. He can barely begin to imagine what his hair must look like as a result of her ministrations. He doesn't care. Her touch feels too good. He wonders if she knows what she does to him, if she knows how much he missed her while she was away.

"Rose," escapes his mouth in the form of a semi-moan as her clever fingers do something particularly wonderful.

She giggles. The sound warms him and he tilts his head back to rest against her abdomen as she stands behind him, hands still in his hair.

His eyes slide shut in contentment despite the relative danger of their situation. "Oh, I missed this," he says.

She quirks an eyebrow at him. "What, getting accused of murder before being shot by an arrow?"

He smiles. "Well, that is a particular favourite of mine, but no. I meant I missed _this._ I missed _you._" He says this last bit hesitantly, still somewhat unsure of her feelings for him since returning from the parallel world. Oh, he knows that she was ecstatic to see him again, if her smile and bone crushing hug were anything to go by, and he's pretty sure she still loves him judging by the way she looks at him, but he's as yet been unable to work out what she wants from him, if anything. He gets the feeling she doesn't want to presume, or appear too pushy.

And then, it strikes him: she's leaving it up to him. She's the one that found her way back to him even though he had said it to be impossible, she's the one that achieved beyond all the odds and managed to keep the universes intact in the process. She came to him, and now it's his decision over where to take it next.

She's been hinting, he realises, with her little looks and touches and her tender care of him, hinting at what she wants, but apparently he's been too blind to notice, too caught up in the joy of finding her and the worry of losing her once more to think too much about taking their relationship back to where it had been before.

"I mean it," he says more softly. "I really missed you, Rose." He opens his eyes, lets her see the moisture there even as he keeps his gaze straight ahead. It makes it easier that he can't see her properly. "There were times when I'd reach for your hand out of instinct but you wouldn't be there, or I'd think I saw you in a crowd and my hearts would skip a beat but then it wasn't you and it would _hurt_. I spent so long trying to find a way to get you back."

Her breath is coming faster now, and he thinks that there are tears in her voice as she speaks. "Doctor," she breathes. She bends to press a kiss to his forehead. Her lips are warm and soft, exactly how he remembers them. "I missed you too."

He tilts his head back further where it is supported against her body, his nose brushing past hers in a butterfly kiss. He reaches his left arm up to draw her round to him until she is kneeling on the stone bench. His hand cradles her head gently. She leaves one arm around his back, supporting him, mindful of his right shoulder, and moves her other hand to press lightly against his bare chest. He knows that she will be able to feel his hearts beating madly. He smiles at her, the smile he saves just for her, and says, "Rose."

She opens her mouth as though she is going to reply but then he is reaching up and pulling her down to him, meeting her halfway as his lips part and press against hers, relishing her warmth and sweetness after so long apart. The heat grows around them as the kiss goes on and it's better than he ever thought it would be, better even than it was before. Everything about them now is so much _more_ than it was, each experience so much more intense, so much more _powerful_. He refuses to waste even the smallest moment of her this time around.

Suddenly he doesn't care about the danger outside or the dull ache in his shoulder or the fact that maybe they should be somewhere that has beds with sheets and soft candlelight and music for this. There are pillows in the corner and light from the small window and the small breathy sighs coming from her throat are music enough. He wants her; he _needs_ her. He suspects that she needs him too; she is clutching at his body as though she never wants to let go.

He pulls back for just a moment to look into her eyes; he sees the want there, her lust and love and slight fear, as well as her consent and trust of him. He smiles and presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Rose," he whispers as his hands move to coast over her body. "I _missed_ you."

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Please note that the rating has gone up to **M**, for sex and other adult themes. That said, please enjoy and let me know what you think!

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They move together as one, kissing and touching as they stand from the small stone bench. The Doctor turns Rose to him so he can see her properly, sliding one arm around her waist and the other through her hair, his lips teasing hers. He smiles as she sighs in contentment and wraps his hair around her hands, tugging softly at the strands. She seems intent on messing up his carefully coiffed style. He wonders if he should tell her that he spent a good half an hour doing his hair earlier – all for her – before realising that would mean breaking the kiss that is currently doing so much to fill his hearts with a warmth and happiness that has not been there in far too long.

"Mmmunnggh," he says instead as she bites lightly at his lower lip. He'd almost forgotten that she liked to do that – _almost,_ but not quite. Although they have been together like this only once before – before they were separated – he feels as though this is familiar to him, like it should be, despite all the time they have spent apart and all the changes that have occurred since. They need to talk; even he, master at hiding his feelings, knows that. There is so much he doesn't know about her life without him, and he wants to know it all. But not now.

There are more important things to be doing right now. Like lying down before he falls down, because that would be embarrassing. He _is_, after all, a Lord of Time, and it simply wouldn't do if he messed things up before they'd even really begun because his knees buckled at a crucial moment.

Although, it seems like Rose is having the same problems as he is. She's leaning into him now, letting him support some of her weight as she draws her mouth away from his and says, "Doctor, the pillows."

It takes him a moment to realise what she's talking about – memory is informing him that Rose is typically not very coherent when she's aroused – but then it dawns on him and he nods. "Good idea." He reluctantly disentangles himself from her and walks the few steps to the small pile of bedding in the corner, picking up the selection of straw mats and pillows.

He takes the bundle back over to the wood burning stove and within a few minutes he has accomplished quite a respectable attempt at impromptu bed- and fire-making. He stays kneeled by the fire, ready to give it a burst of energy with the sonic screwdriver if it should need it. He turns back to find Rose standing with her hands held loosely at her sides, staring at him with eyes big and round and full of something he has rarely seen in her before. He holds his hand out to her. "Rose."

To his surprise, she doesn't step forward and take his hand like he expects. Instead, she stays still, simply looking at him. She opens her mouth to speak twice before any sound comes out. "I thought…" she begins, swallowing when her voice catches in her throat.

He waits patiently, giving all the time she might need to say whatever it is she wants to say. He smiles gently, encouragingly. His hand falls back to his side.

"I thought you were gone forever," she says eventually. "You said it was impossible and I thought I was never going to see you again." A tear falls down her cheek, catching the flickering light of the fire to make it seem as though the flames are dancing in her eyes.

"I thought it was impossible," he says softly. "You proved me wrong, Rose Tyler." His smile widens. "Have I told you lately how fantastic you are?"

She ignores his question, intent on finishing what she has started. "I was scared," she tells him. "When I came back to you, I was scared that you wouldn't want me or that you'd tell me it wasn't right. I thought you might have found someone better."

He wants to tell her that there is no way in this or any other universe he'd send her away, that it's literally an impossibility for him not to want her. He wants to tell her how brave and clever and wonderfully _insane_ she is for working it all out and crossing the Void to get back to him, but he senses she still has more to say and so for once in his long and often ramble-inclined life, he keeps his mouth shut.

"I'm glad you weren't alone," she continues. "I'm glad you had people there for you, but…" She grins a little and bites her lip and it causes the blood to rush from his brain, leaving him somewhat light-headed. "I'm glad you still want me." She moves a step closer, almost within touching distance. "Because I… I missed you. I dreamed about you, y'know. All these dreams, but no reality." The tears spill over properly now, dripping down her cheeks like rain, but she's smiling and he can practically feel the happiness radiating off her. Coupled with the heat from the fire, he's practically burning. "And now I've found you! I found you and you're here and…" She moves forward, is standing in front of him within two steps, her hands cupping his face. "My Doctor," she whispers.

He says nothing – can think of nothing that could be said to improve the wonder of this moment – and instead reaches up to pull her down until she is kneeling in front of him. He strokes one hand along her face, wiping away her tears (he's pretty sure he's crying a bit, too, but that doesn't matter) before trailing down the side of her body, coming to rest on her hip.

He coaxes her to lie down, holding her head with one hand as he lowers her to his makeshift bed. "Rose," he says as he lowers himself to lie over her, weight supported by one hand as the other traces the features of her face, learning her all over again. He lowers his face so he can whisper in her ear, "Thank you for coming back."

He covers her lips with his before she can reply, coaxing a series of moans out of her before moving down to kiss her throat where he can feel the beat of her heart combined with the vibrations of her vocal chords as she groans, and taste her sweat and pheromones and wonderful individuality. He cannot get enough of her, not now he is starting to realise the extent of just what he was missing by denying them both for so long. He cannot keep his hands still; they coast over her body, lingering on her soft curves and the strip of bare skin that is showing where her shirt has ridden up. Her hands are on his arms, holding him to her, and she has entwined her legs with his.

The Doctor takes a moment to pause and breathe in the scent of her as his lips reach her collarbone. She smells wonderful - exactly as he remembered, coupled with just the hint of something _other,_ the final remnants of her time in the other universe. It is as though the air around him has suddenly become purified now she is here again. _Like those funny little plug-in air fresheners that smell of towels or clouds or something, or…_ _Shut up._ He is rather amazed at his mind's ability to keep on prattling even under circumstances such as this.

"Doctor." Her breath washes over his ear as she speaks, causing him to shiver. Her hips push up into his, and his eyes slide shut. She does it again and he lets out an unintelligible sound, but he thinks it gets the message across.

He continues on his journey down her body, nipping at her collarbone before exploring the small grooves with his tongue. He likes her reaction to that. He makes a mental note to explore the area more thoroughly at a later date before moving on.

Some minutes later, he reaches the strip of skin between her jeans and her shirt. She is practically writhing beneath him now, breathing fast and eyes hooded and dark. Despite their less-than-perfect surroundings, he doesn't think she could look more beautiful if she tried. This is perfect. He lets his fingers dance across the small strip of exposed flesh, revelling in the softness of her skin and the way she gives little breathy sighs when he strokes his thumbs over her hipbones.

Pushing her shirt up higher, he lowers his face to her skin, resting one cheek against her abdomen. He can feel her life pulsing through her strongly, can hear her heart as its beat speeds up.

He lets himself be overwhelmed for a short while by the sheer amount of potential within her, the amazing capacity of her body to grow and nurture new life. The prospect brings tears to his eyes as he allows himself a moment of fantasy, a moment's wonder at what a marvel it would be to see her stomach swell with a child – _his_ child – and watch her bloom with pregnancy. It brings back bittersweet memories of their goodbye at Bad Wolf Bay, words spoken long ago echoing round his head.

"… _and the baby," she said._

_His hearts stopped for a moment at that. "You're not?"_

"_No. 'S mum."_

He realises now that he had felt… crushed at her denial. It shocks him to realise just how much he had wanted her to be pregnant with his child, wanted a baby with her. It shocks him further still that he still likes the idea, loves the thought of getting to be a dad. Maybe they could have more than one. Maybe –

"Doctor?"

It dawns on him that he has been silent and unmoving against her for some time. He rests his chin on her stomach and looks up to see her face. She is looking at him curiously.

"You okay?" Her voice is soft, and she raises one hand to rest against his cheek. He turns so that he can nuzzle against her palm.

One hand is resting directly over her womb as he replies, "More than. I was just… thinking."

"About what?"

He doesn't think before responding. "About when we said goodbye. When you mentioned the baby, I thought… I thought that maybe, well –"

She cuts him off with a finger on his lips. "I know," she says quietly, her face a little unsure. "I thought maybe, too, for a while."

"What?" This is news to him.

She swallows and takes his hand in hers, looking anywhere but his face. "When I was first in the other universe, for a while I didn't… I didn't have, well, y'know." She gestures at her body with her free hand before sliding her fingers through his hair, gripping the strands lightly. "I started to think that maybe I was pregnant, maybe I still had a little piece of you with me." Her voice cracks, and he wants to take her in his arms to calm her, but he knows that she needs to tell the rest of this story just as much as he needs to hear it, no distractions. "But then… everything went back to normal after a while, like nothing was ever wrong with me. Mum said it was probably stress." She sighs, as though simply telling him this is a relief, a weight off her shoulders.

"It probably was," he admits, pressing a kiss against her stomach, willing all his feeling flow through him and into her, letting her know that he is here, that it's okay. "Crossing the Void can be tough on your body."

"I wanted it," she says so quietly he barely hears her despite their proximity. "I really started to want that baby, even though it was never even real. It hurt so much when I couldn't even pretend any more. Doctor, I know that's horrible of me but –"

"No. It's okay." He shushes her with a kiss, opens his mind to her and lets her see all the possibilities for their future, that what they have lost is something they can find again. She clings to him desperately, and he senses that she needs what is coming now more than ever. So does he.

He moves them carefully, locking his gaze with hers and letting her see the depth of the emotion he feels for her, all the things he can't say but wants to. He lays one hand over her stomach. "So much promise of life," he murmurs before dipping his head to kiss her again, plundering her mouth and making her reconnect with all that they are together. "One day," he whispers as he moves his hands to the hem of her top and draws it upwards, shifting her just enough that he can lift it up and over her head. She is more beautiful than he remembers. "Rose."

He smiles down at her and trails a hand down her body, over the curve and dip of her collarbone, the swell of her breast and further down to her flat stomach. She presses into his touch, her skin hot against his both from his actions and the heat of the fire burning in the stove a few feet away. The firelight casts a gentle glow on her skin, making it shimmer all golden and pink, her eyes liquid in the soft light. She holds him in the circle of her arms as he leans over her, looking up at him with all the love and reverence he had missed so much while she was gone. She leans up and presses a kiss to the centre of his bare chest, her teeth scraping his skin lightly.

It ignites something in him, something dark and deep and primal and _wanting._ He kisses his way down her body until he can rid her of shoes and socks and jeans, and then moves away for a few moments to remove his own shoes and trousers. Then he rejoins her, sliding up until he can rest at her side, skin against skin, almost all barriers removed. She is trembling slightly as he returns to his slow exploration of her body. "Rose?" he questions softly, stilling his hand in case she is afraid.

She lays her hand over his. "Don't stop," she says, lust in her voice. "I need you, Doctor." She lifts her free hand and lets it drift across his face, her fingers exploring the contours of his cheekbones and the line of his jaw. He turns his face to press a kiss against her palm.

"Anything," he replies. If she needs him, she will have him. He cannot deny her anything anymore.

She leans up and kisses him soundly, sliding her tongue past his lips to run along his teeth and over the roof of his mouth. He lets her, suddenly too overwhelmed by feeling to do anything more than hold on to her tightly and enjoy the sensations she stirs in him with her touch. By the time she is done with him, he is the one lying on his back with her above him, and he has been very thoroughly snogged indeed. He likes it. "Okay there, Doctor?" she murmurs saucily, straddling him carefully so as not to aggravate his injured shoulder. For some reason that little piece of care she gives makes him want to cry (again). He doesn't though. He doesn't want to do anything to spoil this.

"Oh yes," he says in reply to her question, rather eagerly.

Rose laughs, but he can see affection on her face and so he knows she's not laughing at him, not really. Just at his silly reply. Then she stops laughing abruptly, her face turning serious as she leans down and kisses him again, the movement causing her hips to brush against his growing erection. He thrusts up into her out of instinct and she moans into his mouth. "Please," she murmurs. He does it again and this time they both moan.

He's missed this; he's missed it so much, the way that everything they have together is so intense and yet so easy and comfortable at the same time. The way that it feels as though he has never seen her in this way, never touched her this way before, and yet it is as though they could have been doing it for centuries. They are, he thinks, yin and yang. Two halves of a whole. And then he stops thinking, because this doesn't require thinking. He knows what he wants.

Rose reaches behind her and flicks open the catch of her bra before pulling the fabric from her body and tossing it away to the side. He sits up, instinctively bringing his hands to her breasts to caress the soft flesh and brush the pad of his thumb across one nipple. He smiles as she hisses in a breath. He'd forgotten she did that. He does it again and she pushes her hips into his, the angle awkward because of the way she is sitting on his lap. The action catches him in all the right places, though, and he finds himself moaning loudly. He thinks to be embarrassed but then Rose his kissing his neck and saying, "That's it, Doctor. Let go," and he relaxes into her completely, letting his hands roam her body as her mouth explores the pulse point in his neck. She's more… confident than she was the one time they did this before. More confident, and saucier, and sure of herself. And, if he's honest, this is even better than it was before. It means more, somehow.

Within minutes he can feel his erection throbbing between their bodies, the sensation causing him to press into her out of instinct. All coherent thought and reason has left his mind as they simultaneously reach for her underwear, him supporting her weight while she slides out of it quickly. His underwear is next, and then there is nothing but skin and sweat and _Rose_ and… _oh._

Keeping her eyes locked on his, she smiles at him softly before taking him in hand. He returns the smile and leans forward to give her a kiss, affirming everything that is about to happen. She lifts up and then lets him slide into her body slowly, never moving her gaze away from his. The intensity of it is causing him to shake, his body willing him to move. He forces himself to stay still; he will not rush her.

Finally he is encased wholly within her heat, and he wraps his arms around her back, holding her to him for a minute and simply relishing the feel of being back in her body after so long. "So good," she says breathlessly and he nods, biting his lip while he calms his racing hearts. He draws blood when she shifts unexpectedly, lifting her hips until just the tip of him is still inside her and then sliding back down painfully slowly, her chest brushing against his deliciously. He decides that the lip biting will have to stop, especially when she repeats the agonisingly good action and every muscle in his body decides to engage in little spasms of pleasure.

Three more repeats of Rose's Ingenious Lovemaking (as, the Doctor decides, it would henceforth be known) and he is going out of his mind. So out of his mind that he is barely aware of himself tightening his arms around her back, lying back with her and then rolling so that she lies beneath him. It is only Rose's legs tangling with his that alerts him to the new position. "We've moved," he says.

She giggles, looking entirely too in control of herself for his liking. "Yes, we have," she agrees.

He dips his head to kiss her, and then murmurs against her lips, "I'll wipe that smirk off your face, Tyler."

She looks for a moment that she is about to challenge him, but then he twists his hips against hers and she lets loose with a loud moan instead.

"Much better," he whispers.

He begins to move in and out of her slowly, eyes never leaving hers, slick skin against slick skin. He is unaware of anything that may be taking place outside the hut they are in, even unaware of the rest of the room and the dull ache of his shoulder wound. It all comes down to Rose – him and Rose, moving together in the soft light, making up for all the time they lost. Starting as they mean to go on, he thinks. They are together now, and he doesn't plan on letting her go until all the stars are gone from the sky.

The pleasure builds gradually, growing larger and more intense until he's sure he can feel it in his forehead, wave upon wave of it building up, threatening to break at any moment.

They fall together, reaching their peaks at the same time to tumble together in a beautiful sweep of ecstasy, his name on her lips, hers on his, all other words superfluous. Except, perhaps… "Rose," he begins as he comes down from their shared high, his voice raw and low.

"Shh." She lifts a finger and places it on his lips. He kisses it. "I know," she whispers, apparently finding all the answers she could ever need in his eyes. "I always knew. Do you – "

"Yes," he says before she can finish the question, capturing her hand in his and holding it against his chest. "Of course I know."

She smiles, and there is something different in her expression that has been missing ever since she returned to him from the parallel world. Something he has missed almost without realising. Contentment, he thinks it is; contentment at being here with him, safe in the knowledge that he wants her too and her efforts to find him again were not in vain. Never in vain. He hopes she knows never to doubt that. He hopes that she knows how amazing it is that she's here, how it makes his hearts swell with long-forgotten joy and pride to hold her and think of all the lovely things they can do together in their future.

He wants to tell her this, opens his mouth to start, but she is already relaxing under him, eyelids drooping and muscles loosening, and so instead he rolls to his back, pulling her with him to lie on his chest while they both recuperate from what they have just done. She is boneless against him and he can feel his own mind drifting into sleep.

Talking, he thinks as he presses a kiss to the side of her head and receives and happy, sleepy smile in response, can wait for another day.

**END.**

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**A/N: **My ficathon prompt was "a passionate love scene that does not involve them jumping into the sack the minute they lay eyes on each other again - want to see a loving build up and joyous 'rediscovery' of each other (after sharing what they each suffered apart maybe) - implies that they had such a relationship prior to DD (even if it was only one time).

Prompt lyrics - Make me feel again / Slide across my skin again / let me uncover you / to rediscover you / and I will open up / if you promise to give in / on this perfect night / let the two of us be one. "To Be With You" by Hoobastank.

Apologies for the stupidly long A/N! I hope you enjoyed the story.


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